AT THE banker's door Beauchamp stopped Morcerf. "Listen," said he; "just now I told you it was of M. de Monte Cristo you must demand an explanation."

"Yes; and we are going to his house."

"Reflect, Morcerf, one moment before you go."

"On what shall I reflect?"

"On the importance of the step you are taking."

"Is it more serious than going to M. Danglars?"

"Yes; M. Danglars is a money-lover, and those who love money, you know, think too much of what they risk to be easily induced to fight a duel¹. The other is, on the contrary, to all appearance a true nobleman; but do you not fear to find him a bully²?"

"I only fear one thing; namely, to find a man who will not fight."

"Do not be alarmed," said Beauchamp; "he will meet you. My only fear is that he will be too strong for you."

"My friend," said Morcerf, with a sweet smile, "that is what I wish. The happiest thing that could occur to me, would be to die in my father's stead; that would save us all."

"Your mother would die of grief."

"My poor mother!" said Albert, passing his hand across his eyes, "I know she would; but better so than die of shame."

"Are you quite decided³, Albert?"

"Yes; let us go."

"But do you think we shall find the count at home?"

"He intended returning some hours after me, and doubtless he is now at home." They ordered the driver to take them to No. 30 Champs-Elysées. Beauchamp wished to go in alone, but Albert observed that as this was an unusual circumstance he might be allowed to deviate⁴ from the usual etiquette⁵ in affairs of honor. The cause which the young man espoused⁶ was one so sacred that Beauchamp had only to comply with all his wishes; he yielded and contented⁷ himself with following Morcerf. Albert sprang from the porter's lodge⁸ to the steps. He was received by Baptistin. The count had, indeed, just arrived, but he was in his bath, and had forbidden that any one should be admitted. "But after his bath?" asked Morcerf.

"My master will go to dinner."

"And after dinner?"

"He will sleep an hour."

"Then?"

"He is going to the opera."

"Are you sure of it?" asked Albert.

"Quite, sir; my master has ordered his horses at eight o'clock precisely⁹."

"Very good," replied Albert; "that is all I wished to know." Then, turning towards Beauchamp, "If you have anything to attend to, Beauchamp, do it directly; if you have any appointment for this evening, defer¹⁰ it till tomorrow. I depend on you to accompany me to the opera; and if you can, bring Chateau-Renaud with you."

Beauchamp availed himself of Albert's permission, and left him, promising¹¹ to call for him at a quarter before eight. On his return home, Albert expressed his wish to Franz Debray, and Morrel, to see them at the opera that evening. Then he went to see his mother, who since the events of the day before had refused to see any one, and had kept her room. He found her in bed, overwhelmed with grief at this public humiliation¹². The sight of Albert produced the effect which might naturally be expected on Mercédès; she pressed her son's hand and sobbed¹³ aloud, but her tears relieved her. Albert stood one moment speechless by the side of his mother's bed. It was evident from his pale face and knit brows that his resolution to revenge himself was growing weaker. "My dear mother," said he, "do you know if M. de Morcerf has any enemy?" Mercédès started; she noticed that the young man did not say "my father." "My son," she said, "persons in the count's situation have many secret enemies. Those who are known are not the most dangerous."

"I know it, and appeal to your penetration¹⁴. You are of so superior a mind, nothing escapes you."

"Why do you say so?"

"Because, for instance, you noticed on the evening of the ball we gave, that M. de Monte Cristo would eat nothing in our house." Mercédès raised herself on her feverish¹⁵ arm. "M. de Monte Cristo!" she exclaimed; "and how is he connected with the question you asked me?"

"You know, mother, M. de Monte Cristo is almost an Oriental, and it is customary with the Orientals to secure full liberty for revenge by not eating or drinking in the houses of their enemies."

"Do you say M. de Monte Cristo is our enemy?" replied Mercédès, becoming paler than the sheet which covered her. "Who told you so? Why, you are mad, Albert! M. de Monte Cristo has only shown us kindness. M. de Monte Cristo saved your life; you yourself presented him to us. Oh, I entreat¹⁶ you, my son, if you had entertained such an idea, dispel¹⁷ it; and my counsel to you--nay, my prayer--is to retain his friendship."

"Mother," replied the young man, "you have especial reasons for telling me to conciliate that man."

"I?" said Mercédès, blushing as rapidly as she had turned pale, and again becoming paler than ever.

"Yes, doubtless; and is it not that he may never do us any harm?" Mercédès shuddered¹⁸, and, fixing on her son a scrutinizing¹⁹ gaze, "You speak strangely," said she to Albert, "and you appear to have some singular prejudices. What has the count done? Three days since you were with him in Normandy; only three days since we looked on him as our best friend."

An ironical²⁰ smile passed over Albert's lips. Mercédès saw it and with the double instinct of woman and mother guessed all; but as she was prudent²¹ and strong-minded she concealed²³ both her sorrows and her fears. Albert was silent; an instant after, the countess resumed: "You came to inquire after my health; I will candidly²⁴ acknowledge that I am not well. You should install yourself here, and cheer my solitude²⁵. I do not wish to be left alone."

"Mother," said the young man, "you know how gladly I would obey your wish, but an urgent and important affair obliges me to leave you for the whole evening."

"Well," replied Mercédès, sighing, "go, Albert; I will not make you a slave to your filial piety²⁶." Albert pretended he did not hear, bowed to his mother, and quitted her. Scarcely had he shut her door, when Mercédès called a confidential²⁷ servant, and ordered him to follow Albert wherever he should go that evening, and to come and tell her immediately what he observed. Then she rang for her lady's maid, and, weak as she was, she dressed, in order to be ready for whatever might happen. The footman's mission was an easy one. Albert went to his room, and dressed with unusual care. At ten minutes to eight Beauchamp arrived; he had seen Chateau-Renaud, who had promised to be in the orchestra before the curtain was raised. Both got into Albert's coupé; and, as the young man had no reason to conceal²² where he was going, he called aloud, "To the opera." In his impatience²⁸ he arrived before the beginning of the performance.

Chateau-Renaud was at his post; apprised²⁹ by Beauchamp of the circumstances, he required no explanation from Albert. The conduct of the son in seeking to avenge³⁰ his father was so natural that Chateau-Renaud did not seek to dissuade³¹ him, and was content with renewing his assurances of devotion. Debray was not yet come, but Albert knew that he seldom lost a scene at the opera. Albert wandered about the theatre until the curtain was drawn³² up. He hoped to meet with M. de Monte Cristo either in the lobby or on the stairs. The bell summoned him to his seat, and he entered the orchestra with Chateau-Renaud and Beauchamp. But his eyes scarcely quitted the box between the columns, which remained obstinately³³ closed during the whole of the first act. At last, as Albert was looking at his watch for about the hundredth time, at the beginning of the second act the door opened, and Monte Cristo entered, dressed in black, and, leaning over the front of the box, looked around the pit. Morrel followed him, and looked also for his sister and brother in-law; he soon discovered them in another box, and kissed his hand to them.

The count, in his survey of the pit, encountered a pale face and threatening eyes, which evidently sought to gain his attention. He recognized Albert, but thought it better not to notice him, as he looked so angry and discomposed. Without communicating his thoughts to his companion, he sat down, drew out his opera-glass, and looked another way. Although apparently³⁴ not noticing Albert, he did not, however, lose sight of him, and when the curtain fell at the end of the second act, he saw him leave the orchestra with his two friends. Then his head was seen passing at the back of the boxes, and the count knew that the approaching storm was intended to fall on him. He was at the moment conversing³⁵ cheerfully with Morrel, but he was well prepared for what might happen. The door opened, and Monte Cristo, turning round, saw Albert, pale and trembling, followed by Beauchamp and Chateau-Renaud.

"Well," cried he, with that benevolent³⁶ politeness which distinguished³⁷ his salutation from the common civilities of the world, "my cavalier has attained³⁸ his object. Good-evening, M. de Morcerf." The countenance³⁹ of this man, who possessed⁴⁰ such extraordinary control over his feelings, expressed the most perfect cordiality. Morrel only then recollected⁴¹ the letter he had received from the viscount, in which, without assigning any reason, he begged him to go to the opera, but he understood that something terrible was brooding.

"We are not come here, sir, to exchange hypocritical expressions of politeness, or false professions of friendship," said Albert, "but to demand an explanation." The young man's trembling voice was scarcely audible. "An explanation at the opera?" said the count, with that calm tone and penetrating⁴² eye which characterize the man who knows his cause is good. "Little acquainted as I am with the habits of Parisians, I should not have thought this the place for such a demand."

"Still, if people will shut themselves up," said Albert, "and cannot be seen because they are bathing, dining, or asleep, we must avail ourselves of the opportunity whenever they are to be seen."

"I am not difficult of access, sir; for yesterday, if my memory does not deceive me, you were at my house."

"Yesterday I was at your house, sir," said the young man; "because then I knew not who you were." In pronouncing these words Albert had raised his voice so as to be heard by those in the adjoining boxes and in the lobby. Thus the attention of many was attracted by this altercation⁴³. "Where are you come from, sir? You do not appear to be in the possession of your senses."

"Provided I understand your perfidy⁴⁴, sir, and succeed in making you understand that I will be revenged, I shall be reasonable enough," said Albert furiously.

"I do not understand you, sir," replied Monte Cristo; "and if I did, your tone is too high. I am at home here, and I alone have a right to raise my voice above another's. Leave the box, sir!" Monte Cristo pointed⁴⁵ towards the door with the most commanding dignity. "Ah, I shall know how to make you leave your home!" replied Albert, clasping in his convulsed grasp the glove, which Monte Cristo did not lose sight of.

"Well, well," said Monte Cristo quietly, "I see you wish to quarrel with me; but I would give you one piece of advice, which you will do well to keep in mind. It is in poor taste to make a display of a challenge. Display is not becoming to every one, M. de Morcerf."

At this name a murmur⁴⁶ of astonishment⁴⁷ passed around the group of spectators of this scene. They had talked of no one but Morcerf the whole day. Albert understood the allusion⁴⁸ in a moment, and was about to throw his glove at the count, when Morrel seized his hand, while Beauchamp and Chateau-Renaud, fearing the scene would surpass the limits of a challenge, held him back. But Monte Cristo, without rising, and leaning forward in his chair, merely stretched out his arm and, taking the damp, crushed glove from the clinched⁴⁹ hand of the young man, "Sir," said he in a solemn tone, "I consider your glove thrown, and will return it to you wrapped around a bullet. Now leave me or I will summon my servants to throw you out at the door."

Wild, almost unconscious, and with eyes inflamed⁵⁰, Albert stepped back, and Morrel closed the door. Monte Cristo took up his glass again as if nothing had happened; his face was like marble, and his heart was like bronze. Morrel whispered, "What have you done to him?"

"I? Nothing--at least personally," said Monte Cristo.

"But there must be some cause for this strange scene."

"The Count of Morcerf's adventure exasperates⁵¹ the young man."

"Have you anything to do with it?"

"It was through Haidée that the Chamber⁵² was informed of his father's treason."

"Indeed?" said Morrel. "I had been told, but would not credit it, that the Grecian slave I have seen with you here in this very box was the daughter of Ali Pasha."

"It is true, nevertheless."

"Then," said Morrel, "I understand it all, and this scene was premeditated."

"How so?"

"Yes. Albert wrote to request me to come to the opera, doubtless that I might be a witness to the insult he meant to offer you."

"Probably," said Monte Cristo with his imperturbable⁵³ tranquillity⁵⁴.

"But what shall you do with him?"

"With whom?"

"With Albert."

"What shall I do with Albert? As certainly, Maximilian, as I now press your hand, I shall kill him before ten o'clock to-morrow morning." Morrel, in his turn, took Monte Cristo's hand in both of his, and he shuddered to feel how cold and steady it was.

"Ah, Count," said he, "his father loves him so much!"

"Do not speak to me of that," said Monte Cristo, with the first movement of anger he had betrayed; "I will make him suffer." Morrel, amazed, let fall Monte Cristo's hand. "Count, count!" said he.

"Dear Maximilian," interrupted the count, "listen how adorably Duprez is singing that line,--

'O Mathilde! idole de mon ame!'

"I was the first to discover Duprez at Naples, and the first to applaud him. Bravo, bravo!" Morrel saw it was useless to say more, and refrained. The curtain, which had risen at the close of the scene with Albert, again fell, and a rap was heard at the door.

"Come in," said Monte Cristo with a voice that betrayed not the least emotion; and immediately Beauchamp appeared. "Good-evening, M. Beauchamp," said Monte Cristo, as if this was the first time he had seen the journalist that evening; "be seated."

Beauchamp bowed, and, sitting down, "Sir," said he, "I just now accompanied M. de Morcerf, as you saw."

"And that means," replied Monte Cristo, laughing, "that you had, probably, just dined together. I am happy to see, M. Beauchamp, that you are more sober than he was."

"Sir," said M. Beauchamp, "Albert was wrong, I acknowledge, to betray so much anger, and I come, on my own account, to apologize for him. And having done so, entirely⁵⁵ on my own account, be it understood, I would add that I believe you too gentlemanly to refuse giving him some explanation concerning your connection with Yanina. Then I will add two words about the young Greek girl." Monte Cristo motioned him to be silent. "Come," said he, laughing, "there are all my hopes about to be destroyed."

"How so?" asked Beauchamp.

"Doubtless you wish to make me appear a very eccentric character. I am, in your opinion, a Lara, a Manfred, a Lord Ruthven; then, just as I am arriving at the climax⁵⁶, you defeat your own end, and seek to make an ordinary man of me. You bring me down to your own level, and demand explanations! Indeed, M. Beauchamp, it is quite laughable."

"Yet," replied Beauchamp haughtily⁵⁷, "there are occasions when probity⁵⁸ commands"--

"M. Beauchamp," interposed this strange man, "the Count of Monte Cristo bows to none but the Count of Monte Cristo himself. Say no more, I entreat you. I do what I please, M. Beauchamp, and it is always well done."

"Sir," replied the young man, "honest men are not to be paid with such coin. I require honorable guaranties."

"I am, sir, a living guaranty," replied Monte Cristo, motionless, but with a threatening look; "we have both blood in our veins⁵⁹ which we wish to shed--that is our mutual⁶⁰ guaranty. Tell the viscount so, and that to-morrow, before ten o'clock, I shall see what color his is."

"Then I have only to make arrangements for the duel," said Beauchamp.

"It is quite immaterial to me," said Monte Cristo, "and it was very unnecessary to disturb me at the opera for such a trifle. In France people fight with the sword or pistol, in the colonies with the carbine, in Arabia with the dagger⁶¹. Tell your client that, although I am the insulted party, in order to carry out my eccentricity⁶², I leave him the choice of arms, and will accept without discussion, without dispute, anything, even combat by drawing lots, which is always stupid, but with me different from other people, as I am sure to gain."

"Sure to gain!" repeated Beauchamp, looking with amazement⁶³ at the count.

"Certainly," said Monte Cristo, slightly shrugging his shoulders; "otherwise I would not fight with M. de Morcerf. I shall kill him--I cannot help it. Only by a single line this evening at my house let me know the arms and the hour; I do not like to be kept waiting."

"Pistols, then, at eight o'clock, in the Bois de Vincennes," said Beauchamp, quite disconcerted, not knowing if he was dealing⁶⁴ with an arrogant⁶⁵ braggadocio⁶⁶ or a supernatural being.

"Very well, sir," said Monte Cristo. "Now all that is settled, do let me see the performance, and tell your friend Albert not to come any more this evening; he will hurt himself with all his ill-chosen barbarisms: let him go home and go to sleep." Beauchamp left the box, perfectly⁶⁷ amazed. "Now," said Monte Cristo, turning towards Morrel, "I may depend upon you, may I not?"

"Certainly," said Morrel, "I am at your service, count; still"--

"What?"

"It is desirable I should know the real cause."

"That is to say, you would rather not?"

"No."

"The young man himself is acting⁶⁸ blindfolded⁶⁹, and knows not the true cause, which is known only to God and to me; but I give you my word, Morrel, that God, who does know it, will be on our side."

"Enough," said Morrel; "who is your second witness?"

"I know no one in Paris, Morrel, on whom I could confer that honor besides you and your brother Emmanuel. Do you think Emmanuel would oblige me?"

"I will answer for him, count."

"Well? that is all I require. To-morrow morning, at seven o'clock, you will be with me, will you not?"

"We will."

"Hush⁷⁰, the curtain is rising. Listen! I never lose a note of this opera if I can avoid it; the music of William Tell is so sweet."

在那位银行家的门口，波尚让马尔塞夫停一下。“听着，”他说，“刚才我已对你说过，你必须要求基督山先生解释清楚。”

“总的，我们现在就去找他。”

“等一等，马尔塞夫，在见他以前，你必须先考虑考虑。”

“考虑什么？”

“考虑这么做的严重性。”

“这比到腾格拉尔先生那儿去更严重吗？”

“是的，腾格拉尔先生是一个爱钱的人，而那些爱钱的人，你知道，考虑到危险太大是不轻易与一人决斗的。而这一位却相反，他是一位绅士。你难道不怕他接受你的挑战，与你决斗吗？”

“我只怕一件事，那就是，怕遇不到一个肯与我决斗的人。”

“噢，你放心，”波尚说，“他肯定决斗的。我只怕他太厉害了，你敌不过他。”

“我的朋友，”马尔塞夫微笑着说，“为我的父亲而死在决斗场是我所希望的。那样，我们就都得救了。”

“你的母亲会伤心死的。”

“我可怜的母亲！”阿尔贝揉了揉眼睛，“我知道她会的，但这样总比羞死好。”

“你下定决心了吗，阿尔贝？”

“是的。”

“我们能在家里找到他吗？”

“他说比我晚几个钟头回来的，他现在应该是在家了。”

 

 

他们登上马车向香榭丽舍大道三十号驶去。波尚想一个人进去，但阿尔贝说，这次的情况与平时不一样，他不必严格遵守决斗的规则。年轻人完全处于一种神圣的动机，波尚只能顺从他的心意，他同意和马尔塞夫一同进去。阿尔贝从大门口跑到台阶上。巴浦斯汀在门口接着他。伯爵刚回家，现在正在洗澡，不让任何人进去。

“洗完澡干什么？”马尔塞夫问道。

“主人要去吃饭。”

“吃完饭呢？”

“他要睡一个钟头。”

“然后呢？”

“他要到歌剧院去。”

“你能确定吗？”阿尔贝问。

“十分确定，伯爵曾吩咐八点正为他准备好马。”

“好极了，”阿尔贝回答，“我就想知道这些情况。”

然后，他转身对波尚说，“要是您有什么事情要去办理，波尚，赶快就去办它。要是你今天晚上有约会，请把它改到明天。我要你陪我到剧院去，假如可能的话，把夏多·勒诺也带来。”

波尚在阿尔贝同意以后就离开了他，答应在七点刻的时候去拜访他。回家以后，阿尔贝通知弗兰士、德布雷和莫雷尔，希望今天晚上能在剧院里看见他们。然后他又去见他的母亲。他的母亲自从昨天开始，就不愿见任何人，独自躺在她的卧室里。阿尔贝发现她躺在床上，这次公开的羞辱把她完全压倒了。阿尔贝的出现使她得到了很大的安慰，她紧紧地抓住儿子的手，忍不住抽泣起来；但她的眼泪也不能减少她的痛苦。阿尔贝默默地站在母亲的床边。从那苍白的脸色和紧皱的眉头上，可以看出他复仇的心愿已渐渐消除了。“我亲爱的母亲，”他说，“你知道马尔塞夫先生有什么敌人吗？”

美塞苔丝非常吃惊，她注意到她的儿子并没有说“我的父亲”。“我的儿子，”她说，“象伯爵这样有显赫地位的人总是暗中有许多仇敌的。那些明目张胆的仇敌并不是最危险的。”

“是的，我知道的，所以来请求你的判断。你思维敏捷，什么事都逃不过您的眼睛。”

“你为什么要说那些话？”

“因为，比如说，在我们家举行舞会的那天晚上，你就注意到基督山先生根本没有吃我们家的一点东西。”

美塞苔丝用她那颤抖的手支撑起身体。“基督山先生！”她惊讶地喊道，“他跟这一切有什么关系呢？”

“你知道，妈，基督山先生可说完全是一个东方人，而根据东方人的习惯，不在他们仇敌家里吃一点东西、喝一口水便可以保住他复仇的全部自由。”

“你是说基督山先生是我们的仇敌吗？”美塞苔丝问道，脸色变得比她身上的那张床单更苍白。“谁告诉你的？你疯啦，阿尔贝！基督山先生一直对我们彬彬有礼。基督山先生也救了你的命，是你自己把他推荐给我们的呀。噢，我求求你，我的儿子，假如你有这种想法，赶快抛开它，我告诉你——不，我请求你和他保持你们之间的友谊。”

“妈，”那阿尔贝回答，“你要我向那个人妥协，难道有特殊原因的吗？”

“我？”美塞苔丝说，她的脸上一阵白一阵红。但很快又变得苍白起来。

“是的，一定有的，而那个理由是，”阿尔贝说，——

“是不是——就是怕这个人会伤害我们？”

美塞苔丝打了一个寒颤，用考察的眼光盯住他的儿子。

“你说的话离奇古怪，”她对阿尔贝说，好象怀着某种古怪成见似的。伯爵有什么事使你不高兴呀？三天以前，你还他一同在诺曼底，仅仅三天以前，我们还把他当成是我们最好的朋友。”

阿尔贝的嘴边掠过一个自嘲的微笑，美塞苔丝看见了，她凭着一个女人和一个母亲的双重直觉，她预知了一切，但她是一个审慎和坚强的人，她把她的悲哀和恐惧深深地掩藏起来。阿尔贝默不出声，过了好一会儿，伯爵夫人重新说：“你来问我健康怎么样，我坦白说我很不舒服。你留在这儿陪我一会吧。我不愿意一个人呆在房间里。”

“妈，”那青年说，“你知道我很高兴陪你，但有一件很要紧的重大事情使我不得不离开你一晚上。”

“好吧。”美塞苔丝说道，叹了一口气，“去吧，阿尔贝，我不愿意你成为一个孝顺的奴隶。”

阿尔贝装作没有听到这句话，他向母亲鞠了一躬，就离开了她。

他刚把门关上，美塞苔丝便去召来一个心腹人，吩咐晚上跟着阿尔贝出去，并把他所看到的立刻回来报告她。然后她按铃让她的侍婢进来，支撑起虚弱的身子，把自己梳妆好，准备随时应付可能发生的事情。

那个仆人的差事并不难做。阿尔贝回到他的寝室里，象往常一样仔细地打扮齐整。七点五十分，波尚来了，他已见过夏多·勒诺，夏答应他在开幕以前到达剧院。两人进阿尔贝的双座四轮马车里，阿尔贝没有丝毫隐瞒，便喊道：“到歌剧院去。”他在焦躁不安的情绪中在开幕前到达了剧院。

夏多·勒诺已经到了，波尚已经把全部事情通知过他，他无需阿尔贝向他解释。儿子为父亲复仇的行为是天经地义的事，所以夏多·勒诺并不劝阻他，只是重申了他一定会把他作为永远的朋友。

德布雷还没有来，但阿尔贝知道他很少错过一场戏的。阿尔贝在剧院里到处闲荡，直到幕拉开。他希望在外厅或楼梯上能遇到基督山。铃声召他回座，他与夏多·勒诺和波尚一同走进剧院。但他的眼睛始终没有离开过两根廊柱之间的那个包厢，可是在第一幕演出时候，那个包厢的门始终紧紧地关闭着。最后，当阿尔贝差不多是第一百次望他的手表时，也就是第二幕开始的时候，门开了，基督山穿着一套黑衣服走了进来，站到包厢前面的栏杆上，向大厅环视。莫雷尔跟在他的后面，用眼光去寻找他的妹妹和妹夫。他不久就发现他们在另一个包厢里，向他们点头示意。

伯爵在环顾正厅的时候遇到一张苍白的面孔和一双气势汹汹的眼睛，而且那一对眼睛显然引起他的注意。他认出那是阿尔贝。看到他这样愤怒和失常，还是认为最好不去看他。

他不露声色地坐下，拿出他的望远镜，向别处观望。他表面上虽然并没有去注意阿尔贝，但实际上阿尔贝却从未离开过他的视线。当第二幕的帷幕落下来的时候，他看见他和他的两个朋友离了正厅前座然后又看见他的头在包厢后面经过，伯爵就知道那逐渐接近的风暴将要落到他身上来了。这时，他正在和莫雷尔高高兴地聊天，但他已经准备好了随时应付可能发生的一切。门开了，基督山转过头去，他看到阿尔贝脸色苍白，浑身颤抖地走进来，后面跟着波尚和夏多·勒诺。

“唉，”他喊道，他的口令是那样的慈爱殷勤，显然与一般人的普通招呼不同，“我的骑士到达目的地啦。晚安，马尔塞夫先生。”这个人很善于控制自己的情绪，他的脸上露出十分亲热的神情，莫雷尔到达时才想起子爵给他的那封信，那封信里并没有说任何理由，只是要求他到剧院来，但他知道有一件可怕的事情要将发生。

“阁下，我们不是到这儿来听你这些虚伪的客套话的，也不是来跟你谈什么友谊的，”阿尔贝说，“我们是来解释的，伯爵阁下。”那青年的颤抖声音象是从咬紧的牙齿里传出来的一样。

“在剧院里作解释？”伯爵说，那镇定的声音和洞察一切的目光证明他始终保持着自制力。“我对于巴黎人的习惯知道得很少，但我想在这种地方是不适宜提出这种要求的。”

 

 

“可是，假如有些把他们自己关在家里，”阿尔贝说，“只因为他在洗澡、吃饭或睡觉就不能见客，我们就只能在哪儿碰到他就在哪儿向他提出些问题。”

“我不是很难找的呀，阁下，因为，假如我的记忆力还不算太坏的话，昨天您还在我的家里。”

“昨天，我是在你的家里，阁下，”阿尔贝说，“因为那时我还不知道你是谁。”

“我还不知道你是谁。”说这几句话的时候，阿尔贝已提高他们的谈话嗓们，这样近的包厢和休息室的人都可以听得到。所以已经有许多人的注意力已经被这一声争吵吸引过来了。

“您是从哪儿来的，阁下？”基督山说，脸上毫无表情。

“您看来已完全丧失理智啦。”

“只要我懂得你是一个不义的家伙，阁下，而且还要你明白。我要报复，我就够清醒了。”阿尔贝狂怒地说。

“我不懂得您的意思，阁下，”基督山回答，“就算我知道你的意思，您的声音太大。这儿是我的地方，这里只有我有权利可以比旁人讲得高。请您出去，阁下！”基督山以威严的神态指着门。

“啊，我要你离开，离开你的地方！”基督山以威严的神态指着门。

“啊，我要你离开，离开你的地方！”阿尔贝一面回答，一面把他的手套在他那痉挛的手掌里捏成一团，基督山完全看见这了这一切。

“好了，好了！”基督山平静地说，“我看您要跟我打架，但我要奉劝你一句，您不要忘记。挑衅是一个坏习惯。况且并不是对每一个人都有效的，马尔塞夫先生。”

听到这个名字，看到这场争吵，旁观音之中发出了一阵阵惊异的低语声。从昨天以来他们整天都在谈论马尔塞夫。阿尔贝立刻明白了这个暗示的意思，他正要把他的手套向伯爵脸上摔过去，莫雷尔及时快速地捉住他的手，波尚和夏多·勒诺也恐怕这种局面越出决斗挑衅的界限，一齐挡住他。但基督山并没有起身，只是从椅背上转过身来，从阿尔贝的捏紧的手里拿出了那只潮湿团绉的手套。“阁下，”他用一种庄严的口气说，“就算您的手套已经扔了，我用它裹好一颗子弹送给您。现在离开我的包厢，不然我就要我的仆人来赶你到门外去了。”

阿尔贝退了出去，他的神色迷乱，眼睛冒火，几乎丧失了理智，摩莱关上门。基督山又拿起他的望远镜，象是根本不曾发生过什么似的；他有一颗铜做的心和大理石雕成的脸。

莫雷尔耳语说：“您对他做过什么事情？”

“我？没有什么，至少对他个人没有什么。”基督山说。

“但这一切叫那个年青人感到愤怒。”

“那件事跟您有关系吗？”

“他父亲的叛逆罪是海黛去告诉贵族院的。”

“真的？”莫雷尔说。“我听人说过，但我不相信，我不相信在这个包厢里见到过的和你在一起的那个希腊奴隶说是阿里总督的女儿。”

“这一切完全是真的。”

“看来，”莫雷尔说，“我懂了，刚才这场争吵是有预谋的。”

“怎么会呢？”

“是的，阿尔贝写信要求我到歌剧院来，无疑是要我做一个看见他侮辱您的见证人。”

“大概是的。”基督山泰然自若地说。

“但您预备怎样反击他呢？”

“对谁？”

“阿尔贝。”

“我准备对阿尔贝怎么样？马西米兰，就象我现在握住您的手一样确定无疑，在明天早晨十点钟以前，我一定会杀死他。”莫雷尔把基督山的手捧在自己的两手之间，他打了一个寒颤，觉得那只手是那样的冰冷和坚定。

“啊，伯爵，”他说，“他的父亲是那样的爱他！”

“别再向我提起那个人！”基督山说，这是他第一次发火，“我要使他痛苦。”

莫雷尔在惊愕之下让伯爵那只手抽出去。“伯爵！伯爵！”他说。

“亲爱的马西米兰，”伯爵打断他的话说，“听杜普里兹［杜普里兹（一八○六—一八九六），法国歌剧演员。——译注］吧。”

莫雷尔知道再说什么也没有用，只好不哼声了。阿尔贝吵完退出时，拉起的那道舞台帷幕，不一会便又降落了下来。

这是一阵急促的敲门声。

“请进！”基督山说，他的声音仍然象平常一样的平静，波尚立刻出现了。“晚安，波尚先生，”基督山说好，象是今天晚上看见那位新闻记者似的，“请坐。”

波尚鞠了一躬坐下。“阁下，”他说，“你刚才已经看到我是陪马尔塞夫先生的。”

“那就是说，”基督山面带微笑说，“你们大概还是一块用餐的。波尚先生，我很高兴看到您比他稳重一些。

“阁下，”波尚说，“我承认阿尔贝不应该向您发这样大的火，但道歉了以后，你懂得，伯爵阁下，我只是代表我本人道歉的，我还要说：我相信你一定会给我这个面子，不会拒绝跟我解释一下你和亚尼纳的关系。再者，还有那位年轻的希腊姑娘，我还要说几句话。”

基督山示意请他住口。“喏，”他微笑着说，“我的全部希望已经破灭了。”

“怎么会呢？”波尚说。

“您当然希望我是一个非常怪僻的人物。照您看来，我是一个勒拉，一个曼弗雷特，一个罗思文勋爵。然后，当大家都这样认为时，您却破坏了我的形象，又要把我塑造成一个普通人了。您要把我拉回到现实中去，最后，您竟要求我作出什么解释！真的，波尚先生，这也太可笑啦。”

“可是，”波尚傲慢地答道，“有的时候，当正义的命令——”

“波尚先生，”这个怪人打断他的话说，“基督山伯爵只是接受基督山伯爵的命令的。所以，什么都不要说了。我爱怎么做就怎么做，波尚先生，而且我总会做得很好的。”

“阁下，”波尚答道，“正义之士得到的不应该是这样的答复。信义是需要有个保证的。”

“阁下，我就是一个活生生的例子，”基督山不动声色但却气势汹汹地回答，“我们两人的血管里都有我们愿意抛洒的热血，——那就是我们相互的保证。就这样去告诉子爵吧，明天早晨十点钟以前，我就可以看到他的血究竟是什么颜色了。”

“看来我只好安排你们决斗的手续就是了。”波尚说。

“对于这我是无所谓的，阁下，”基督山说，“以这种小事在剧院里来打扰我实在没有什么必要。在法国，人们用剑或手枪决斗。在殖民地，用马枪决斗。在阿拉伯，用匕首决斗。告诉你的委托人，虽然我是忍受侮辱的一方，为了保持我的怪僻，我允许他选择武器，而且可以不经讨论，毫无异议地接受，你听清楚了吗？什么都行，甚至用抽签的办法也可以，虽然它是愚蠢和可笑的，然而，对于我却是没有什么，我一定可以取胜。”

“当然罗，”基督山微微耸一耸肩膀说。“不然我就不会和马尔塞夫先生决斗。我要杀死他，这是没有办法的事。只要今天晚是写一张字笺送到我家里来，让我知道决斗的武器和时间就行了，我不愿意花太多的时间等待。”

“那末，是用手枪，八点钟，在万森树林。”波尚神情狼狈地说，不知道对方究竟是一个傲慢的自大者还是一个超人。

“好极了，阁下，”基督山说，“现在一切都已解决了，请让我看一剧吧，并且请您告诉你的朋友阿尔贝，今天晚上请他不要再来了，他这种粗鲁野蛮的行为只会伤害他自己。让他回家先养精蓄锐吧。”波尚惊愕地离开了包厢。“现在，”基督山转过去对莫雷尔说，“可以指望你当我们的证人，是吗？”

“当然啊，”莫雷尔说，“愿意听从你的吩咐，伯爵，可是——”

“可是什么？”

“我想我应该知道真正的原因。”

“那是说，您拒绝我了？”

“不。”

“真正的原因吗？莫雷尔，阿尔贝本人也是盲目地在干，他也不知道真正的原因。真正的原因只有上帝和我知道。但我可以向您保证，莫雷尔，上帝不仅知道原因，而且是站在我们这一边。”

“那就够了，”莫雷尔说，“谁是您的第二个陪证人？”

“莫雷尔，除了您和您的妹夫艾曼纽以外，我在巴黎所认识的人没有一个可以享受这种光荣。您以为艾曼纽会答应我的要求吗？”

“我可以替他答应您，伯爵。”

“好，这就是我所需要的一切了。明天早晨，七点钟，你们一块到我这儿来，好不好？”

“我们一定来。”

“嘘！开幕了。听！这个歌剧我尽可能听一个字都不让它漏过的，《威廉·退尔》这支曲子真是太美妙！”

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